


Storytime! The Coming Of The Hound

by JohnAmendAll



Series: Storytime [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, This Time Round
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 03:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Acknowledgements:</b>
</p><ul><li>"Doctor Who" is the property of the BBC.</li>
	<li>Sherlock Holmes was created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The text 
	from the original novel incorporated herein is, I believe, in the 
	public domain.</li>
	<li>Rover was created by Patrick McGoohan, and belongs to whoever owns 
	the rights to <cite>The Prisoner</cite> these days.</li>
	<li>This Time Round was created by Tyler Dion.</li>
	<li>Look Who's Talking was the brainchild of Imran Inayat.</li>
	<li>Storytime, and the Wondrous & Adorable Nyssa's Knights-Errant 
	Regiment, are the creation of BKWillis.</li>
</ul></blockquote>





	Storytime! The Coming Of The Hound

"I don't like this idea of yours, Holmes," said Doctor Watson.

"What's the matter?" retorted Sherlock Holmes. "All you have to do is keep the children out of the way while I check the french windows for fingerprints."

"Holmes, have you ever tried keeping toddlers away from someone who's trying to work?"

"They're only children, Watson."

"That doesn't make them any less difficult. And don't think of saying 'They don't bite', because I assure you that they do."

"There, my dear Watson, I must bow to your undoubted expertise."

Holmes stepped forward and knocked at the door of Look Who's Talking.

  


"Now, children," said Izzy. "Mr. Holmes here is just going to mend the window -"

"But it isn't bwoken," piped up little Adric.

"No fanks to you," muttered Baby Ace.

"- And so we'll all have to sit in the Story Room for a bit until he's finished."

"Story! Story!" chorused the toddlers, as Izzy shepherded them into the room and sat them down in a rough semicircle.

Izzy picked up the storybook, and it fell open in her hands. On one page were staves of music; opposite them, an illustration showed Harry Saxon face down in shallow water, with Lucy Saxon's boot pressed firmly on his neck. In the corners of the picture the aged Fourth Doctor lay in bed, and the gnome-like Tenth shared a cage with the Polyphase Avatron. She shuddered and closed the book again.

"Could you tell us a story?" she asked. "Only our normal storybook's behaving a bit... oddly at the moment."

Watson cleared his throat and looked around at the circle of children. Still, telling a story wasn't as bad as giving the children rides or helping them paint pictures. He fumbled automatically in his pocket for a cigarette, but instead his hand closed around a rolled-up manuscript. Drawing it out, he read the first few words with relief.

"I'll tell you the legend of the Hound of the Baskervilles," he said.

> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "Of the origin of the Hound of the Baskervilles there have been many statements, yet as I come in a direct line from Hugo Baskerville, and as I had the story from my father, who also had it from his, I have set it down with all belief that it occurred even as is here set forth."

Watson looked round at the children. He seemed to have their attention.

> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "Know then that in the time of the Great Rebellion this Manor of Baskerville was held by Hugo of that name, nor can it be gainsaid that he was a most wild, profane, and godless man."
> 
> _[A large manor house in the Tudor style is seen, surrounded by moorland. The door swings open, and Owen Harper strides out, dressed as a Cavalier with the beard and moustache to match. He essays a swagger.]_
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  Am I the hero? Great! But more importantly, do I get the girl?
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "This, in truth, his neighbours might have pardoned, seeing that saints have never flourished in those parts,"
> 
> _[Moorland, evening. The Monk is strolling along in his habit with an ostentatiously pious expression. Suddenly Suzie Costello, dressed as a highwayman, jumps out from behind a rock and garrottes him.]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "but there was in him a certain wanton and cruel humour which made his name a byword through the West."
> 
> _[Baskerville Hall, evening. Owen / Hugo is standing outside the door.]_
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  Knock, Knock.
> 
> **Harry Sullivan's voice** _[from inside]_ :  
>  Who's there?
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  Doctor.
> 
> **Harry's voice:**  
>  Oh, come on, that's the oldest one in the -
> 
> _[Owen / Hugo suddenly flings the door open, pushing Harry (dressed as a servant) against the wall. Then he grabs him by the collar, and throws him to the ground.]_
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  You **ruined** my joke!
> 
> _[As Harry tries to get up, Owen / Hugo draws a pistol and shoots him.]_
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  You're fired!
> 
> **Harry:**  
>  I say, that was a bit excessive. _[Owen prods him with his foot.]_ Sorry. _[He goes back to playing dead.]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "It chanced that this Hugo came to love (if, indeed, so dark a passion may be known under so bright a name) the daughter of a yeoman who held lands near the Baskerville estate. But the young maiden, being discreet and of good repute, would ever avoid him, for she feared his evil name." 
> 
> _[The inside of a farmhouse. Standing at the door is the Fourth Doctor, dressed in a farmer's smock with his usual scarf. He holds a card in his hand.]_
> 
> **Fourth Doctor:**  
>  Oh, now, that isn't fair. I've actually got to read this out before I keel over.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  You don't keel over.
> 
> **Fourth Doctor:**  
>  What?
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  You don't die, or remarry, or leave your only true daughter as an orphan. Now, will you please read the card?
> 
> **Fourth Doctor:**  
>  My agent will hear of this. _[He examines the card.]_ "You are all invited to the May celebrations on the village green. There will be Morris dancing, an ox roast..."
> 
> _[Gwen Cooper, dressed as the farmer's daughter, rises from a chair and tries to take a look at the card.]_
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  But will that Hugo Baskerville be there?
> 
> **Fourth Doctor:**  
>  "... and a bathing beauties contest judged by the Lord of the Manor." 
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  I thought so. I bet I know what kind of roasting he's got in mind. No way am I getting into that.
> 
> **Fourth Doctor:**  
>  "Roasting." That's a bit anachronistic, isn't it?
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  Right, and bathing beauties aren't?
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "So it came to pass that one Michaelmas this Hugo, with five or six of his idle and wicked companions, stole down upon the farm and carried off the maiden, her father and brothers being from home, as he well knew."

"Why did they leave her all alone?" asked Nyssa.

"If there's trouble on a farm the farmer sometimes has to go and sort it out in a hurry," explained Watson.

> _[Outside the farmhouse. The Fourth, Fifth and Tenth Doctors are waving goodbye to Gwen.]_
> 
> **Fourth Doctor:**  
>  Must dash, the Cybermen are landing in Five-Acre Field.
> 
> **Fifth Doctor:**  
>  Old Mr. Figgis at Long Barn says there's a giant robot in his cowshed again. I'd better go and sort it out.
> 
> **Tenth Doctor:**  
>  And the ram's gone missing. I'll have to go out and look for him, or we'll have no lambs next year.

"Why..." asked little Martha.

Watson, his face suddenly red, merely shushed her.

> **All three Doctors, in unison:**  
>  Don't wait up.
> 
> _[They get into their TARDISes, which dematerialise.]_
> 
> _[We now see Gwen, sitting in the farmhouse by the fire. Suddenly the door is thrown open and Owen / Hugo enters. Behind him are Eric and Tyson.]_
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  I have you now, my pretty!
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  You...! Oh, s—
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  Language, please. There are children listening.
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  Oh... sewage?
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  I suppose that will have to do.
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  You lot! Bring her! She's coming back to the hall for an evening's fun, aren't you, my pretty? Mwa ha ha ha ha.
> 
> _[He twirls his moustache. The other two do not move.]_
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  I think you're enjoying this far too much. Um, why aren't they doing anything?
> 
> **Eric** _[staring at Gwen]_ :  
>  ... Girl ...
> 
> **Tyson** _[drooling]_ :  
>  ... Pretty ... teehee ...
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  Why am I surrounded by imbeciles?
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  It's the only way you can make yourself look dashing and intelligent. 
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  Oh yes. I knew there was a good reason.
> 
> _[He drags Gwen outside. In the farmyard the other members of the party are waiting: Jack Harkness, the Delgado and Ainley Masters, and Captain Tancredi.]_
> 
> **Capt Jack:**  
>  I'm a villain?
> 
> **Delgado Master:**  
>  I'm just a hired thug?
> 
> **Ainley Master:**  
>  I'm another hired thug?
> 
> **Tancredi:**  
>  I'm concerned with the fate of some human female?
> 
> **Owen / Hugo** _[embracing Gwen and kissing her roughly]_ :  
>  Aha! My proud beauty! A little taste of what's to come later this evening!
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  Hang on. The manuscript didn't say that happened.
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  It didn't say it didn't, though. _[He grabs her by the chin]_ I'm going to enjoy this so much.
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  I didn't think it possible, but you're actually playing someone more loathsome than yourself.
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  I like a girl with spirit!
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  You bas... basket case.
> 
> _[Owen / Hugo throws her onto his horse and they ride off.]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "When they had brought her to the Hall the maiden was placed in an upper chamber, while Hugo and his friends sat down to a long carouse, as was their nightly custom."
> 
> _[Baskerville Hall - the Great Hall. The party is split in two groups. At one end of the table Owen, Captain Jack, the four members of WANKER, Sabbath, Henry van Statten, Captain Tancredi and the Abzorbaloff are quaffing ale and singing something which (judging by their gestures) isn't really suitable for such a young audience. At the other, three Masters (Delgado, Ainley and Jacobi) and Nyder are sipping glasses of wine and decorously playing cards.]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "Now, the poor lass upstairs was like to have her wits turned at the singing and shouting and terrible oaths which came up to her from below,"
> 
> **Sabbath:**  
>  So, I said to her, 'If your DNA's 98% identical to mine, would you hold it against me?' and she bit me.
> 
> **Capt Jack:**  
>  Sounds like you had a great time. D'you happen to have her number?
> 
> **Abzorbaloff:**  
>  Waiter! Another bucket of fried squirrels!
> 
> **Tancredi:**  
>  Then the Pope said to me, 'See that by nightfall he sleeps with the fishes.'
> 
> **Darren:**  
>  This beer's horrible. How d'you manage to drink it?
> 
> **Eric:**  
>  Well, if you drink enough, you don't notice the taste any more.
> 
> **Darren** _[Takes a swig and grimaces]_ :  
>  How much is enough?
> 
> **Jacobi Master:**  
>  Four kings. Mine, I think. So, Mr. Nyder, which do you prefer — enslaving or killing?
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "... for they say that the words used by Hugo Baskerville, when he was in wine, were such as might blast the man who said them."
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:** _[leaps to his feet and shouts at the top of his voice]_ :  
>  "... And I say the Doctor _is_ half-human!"
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "At last in the stress of her fear she did that which might have daunted the bravest or most active man, for by the aid of the growth of ivy which covered (and still covers) the south wall she came down from under the eaves, and so homeward across the moor, there being three leagues betwixt the Hall and her father's farm."
> 
> _[Outside. Gwen is climbing down the ivy.]_
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  Bu...Blast this for a game of soldiers. Nine miles in the dark? In these shoes? You've got to be kidding me.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  You don't end up doing all nine miles.
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  It's either run for it or have him catch you here.
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  Your position has a certain logic. _[She sets off at a run.]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "It chanced that some little time later Hugo left his guests to carry food and drink — with other worse things, perchance — to his captive, and so found the cage empty and the bird escaped."
> 
> _[The bedroom. The door is kicked open and Owen / Hugo storms in, holding a hunk of bread, a pitcher of ale, and a Torchwood DVD box-set.]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  'Other worse things?'
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  You said you had kids listening.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  You've got a point. Carry on.
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  Aaargh! She has been taken from me! _[He flings the bread, pitcher and DVDs across the room, and begins to smash the furniture]._
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "Then, as it would seem, he became as one that hath a devil, for, rushing down the stairs into the dining-hall, he sprang upon the great table, flagons and trenchers flying before him, and he cried aloud before all the company..."
> 
> _[The Great Hall. Owen / Hugo is, indeed, on the table.]_
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  This very night I shall render my body and soul to the Powers of Evil if I might but overtake the wench!
> 
> **Delgado Master:**  
>  Been there.
> 
> **Ainley Master:**  
>  Done that.
> 
> **Jacobi Master:**  
>  Never works.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "And while the revellers stood aghast at the fury of the man, one more wicked or, it may be, more drunken than the rest, cried out that they should put the hounds upon her."
> 
> **Nyder:**  
>  Now, in this situation, the thing to do is release the hounds. We used to do that before Davros used them for his experiments. None of the Thals ever got more than a quarter of the way back to their city.
> 
> **Abzorbaloff:**  
>  And I'll bet they tasted like chicken.
> 
> **Nyder:**  
>  Pork, actually.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "Whereat Hugo ran from the house, crying to his grooms that they should saddle his mare and unkennel the pack, and giving the hounds a kerchief of the maid's, he swung them to the line, and so off full cry in the moonlight over the moor."
> 
> _[The stables. Two grooms fling the doors open. Inside all is dark, but then four red lights glow into life, and all four K-9 units trundle out.]_
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  Here's her hanky. Follow her!
> 
> **K-9 mk 1:**  
>  Affirmative, master.
> 
> **K-9 mk 2:**  
>  Bio-signature evaluated.
> 
> **K-9 mk 3:**  
>  Search pattern confirmed.
> 
> **K-9 mk 4:**  
>  Seek. Locate. Exterminate.
> 
> **Owen / Hugo** _[double-takes, then calls to the grooms]_ :  
>  My horse!
> 
> _[The K-9s move off into the moorland, making heavy work of the rough ground. Owen / Hugo follows on his horse, trying hard not to overtake them]._
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "Now, for some space the revellers stood agape, unable to understand all that had been done in such haste. But anon their bemused wits awoke to the nature of the deed which was like to be done upon the moorlands. Everything was now in an uproar, some calling for their pistols, some for their horses, and some for another flask of wine."
> 
> **Eric** _[woozily]_ :  
>  Where did I leave my gun? I had it somewhere. I know I had it earlier this evening. Did anyone see where I left it?
> 
> **Capt Jack:**  
>  Believe me, kid, you don't wanna know.
> 
> **Abzorbaloff:**  
>  A horse! _[belches]_ The perfect dish to round off the evening. Waiter, fetch me one at once!
> 
> **Sabbath:**  
>  Do you call this wine? It's undrinkable. Go and get us something better.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "But at length some sense came back to their crazed minds,"
> 
> **Darren:**  
>  Hang on. He's out there with the only chick.
> 
> **Tyson:**  
>  Yeah, we're not going to get any action if we stay here.
> 
> **Tancredi:**  
>  He could torture her to death all by himself!
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "and the whole of them, thirteen in number, took horse and started in pursuit. The moon shone clear above them, and they rode swiftly abreast, taking that course which the maid must needs have taken if she were to reach her own home."

Tegan put up her hand.

"Mister," she said. "If they could tell where she'd gone why did the bad man have to use the hounds?"

"Perhaps he thought she would try and hide," replied Watson, and returned to his manuscript before anyone else could come up with objections.

> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "They had gone a mile or two when they passed one of the night shepherds upon the moorlands, and they cried to him to know if he had seen the hunt."
> 
> _[The riders, cloaked and booted, approach Ianto Jones and his flock of sheep.]_
> 
> **Ianto** _[in an exaggerated Welsh accent]_ :  
>  You'll see no stereotypes here, boyo, oh dear me no.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "And the man, as the story goes, was so crazed with fear that he could scarce speak, but at last he said that he had indeed seen the unhappy maiden, with the hounds upon her track. 'But I have seen more than that,' said he, 'for Hugo Baskerville passed me upon his black mare, and there ran mute behind him such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels.'"
> 
> **Ianto** _[flatly]_ :  
>  He went that way.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  Oh well done. Could you have shown less enthusiasm for the role?
> 
> **Ianto:**  
>  I don't do enthusiasm.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "So the drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rode onward."
> 
> **Abzorbaloff:**  
>  Useless peasant. We're not afraid of some little dog.
> 
> **Ianto:**  
>  More fool you, then. And you can stop looking hungrily at my sheep like that, Mr. Creosote.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "But soon their skins turned cold, for there came a galloping across the moor, and the black mare, dabbled with white froth, went past with trailing bridle and empty saddle. Then the revellers rode close together, for a great fear was on them, but they still followed over the moor, though each, had he been alone, would have been right glad to have turned his horse's head."
> 
> **David:**  
>  Guys, are you sure this is a good idea?
> 
> **van Statten:**  
>  If you want to ride back all alone in the dark, don't let us stop you.
> 
> **David:**  
>  Errr....
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "Riding slowly in this fashion they came at last upon the hounds. These, though known for their valour and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the head of a deep dip or goyal, as we call it, upon the moor."
> 
> _[Moorland, night. Rocky ground slopes steeply away. At the top of the slope the K-9s are standing, apparently not able to negotiate the terrain.]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "...some slinking away and some, with starting hackles and staring eyes, gazing down the narrow valley before them."
> 
> **K-9 mk 2:** _[waggling ears]_ :  
>  There is danger, masters.
> 
> **Capt Jack:**  
>  Yeah, I kinda figured that.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "The company had come to a halt, more sober men, as you may guess, than when they started. The most of them would by no means advance," 
> 
> **Sabbath:**  
>  I think it would be prudent if we, ah, stood on guard.
> 
> **Nyder:**  
>  And listened for any sound of trouble.
> 
> **Jacobi Master:**  
>  I think you're up to something. I'm staying here to keep an eye on you.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "but three of them, the boldest,"
> 
> _[The Delgado and Ainley Masters spur their horses on.]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "...or it may be the most drunken,"
> 
> _[and so does Captain Jack]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "...rode forward down the goyal. Now, it opened into a broad space in which stood two of those great stones, still to be seen there, which were set by certain forgotten peoples in the days of old. The moon was shining bright upon the clearing..."
> 
> _[Gwen is leaning against one of the standing stones, getting her breath back. Owen / Hugo is creeping up behind her. He tries to twirl his moustache, but it comes off in his hand.]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "...and there in the centre lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear and of fatigue."
> 
> **Gwen:**  
>  Blimey!
> 
> _[She jumps in the air and falls on her back.]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "But it was not the sight of her body, nor yet was it that of the body of Hugo Baskerville lying near her,"
> 
> **Owen / Hugo:**  
>  Strewth!
> 
> _[He jumps in the air and falls on his back.]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "which raised the hair upon the heads of these three dare-devil roysterers, but it was that, standing over Hugo, and plucking at his throat, there stood a foul thing, a great, black beast, shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound that ever mortal eye has rested upon." 
> 
> _[With a roar, a seven-foot translucent sphere, glowing slightly in the dark, bounces into the clearing and heads for Owen / Hugo.]_

"But that's not a hound!" protested Leela.

"And it's white," added Romana. "You said it should be black!"

"'Rover'," muttered Watson. "Give a dog a bad name... Oh well. It'll have to do."

> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "And even as they looked the thing tore the throat out of Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them,"
> 
> _[The sphere bounces up and down on Owen / Hugo a few times, and then heads for Jack and the Masters. Despite its lack of eyes or jaws, they make a swift tactical withdrawal.]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "...the three shrieked with fear and rode for dear life, still screaming, across the moor. One, it is said, died that very night of what he had seen,"
> 
> _[Captain Jack clutches his heart and falls off his horse. Almost immediately, of course, he jumps up again.]_
> 
> **Capt Jack:**  
>  Hey, guys! I'm feeling great! Fancy a threesome?
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "... and the other twain were but broken men for the rest of their days."
> 
> _[The two Masters push their hoods back, to reveal that they have changed into the Pratt and Beevers incarnations.]_
> 
> **Capt Jack:**  
>  On second thoughts, maybe not.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "Such is the tale, my sons, of the coming of the hound which is said to have plagued the family so sorely ever since. Nor can it be denied that many of the family have been unhappy in their deaths, which have been sudden, bloody, and mysterious."
> 
> _[Captain Sorin walks along a moorland path, dressed as for the late seventeenth century. Suddenly a sixteen-ton weight drops on him.]_
> 
> _[Morgus, also dressed as for the late seventeenth century, is riding in a horse-drawn carriage. All at once the carriage becomes detached from its horses, and rolls backward over a cliff.]_
> 
> _[Sir Reginald Styles is speaking in the eighteenth-century House of Commons.]_
> 
> **Sir Reginald:**  
>  And so I call for war with France!
> 
> **Hon. Members:**  
>  Hear, hear.
> 
> **Sir Reginald:**  
>  Furthermore...
> 
> _[He is exterminated. We see the opposition benches, where the Dalek Sec mutant is sitting, wearing an elaborate powdered wig and holding a Dalek handgun.]_
> 
> **Sec mutant:**  
>  Got him at last. We Daleks can be delayed, but not defeated.
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "And I counsel you by way of caution to forbear from crossing the moor in those dark hours when the powers of evil are exalted."
> 
> _[A last view of the moor, sinister in the twilight. Rover emerges from the Grimpen Mire and bounces off into the distance, roaring.]_
> 
> **Watson / Narrator:**  
>  "(This from Hugo Baskerville to his sons Rodger and John, with instructions that they say nothing thereof to their sister Elizabeth.)" 
> 
> _[Baskerville Hall - the study. The Brigadier is seen explaining something to Yates and Benton in an undertone. In the corner of the room is Sarah, glowering at the others with folded arms. All are wearing eighteenth-century clothes.]_
> 
> **Sarah:**  
>  Just because I haven't got a stupid Y chromosome, I don't get told what's going on. Wait till I get my hands on you, Hugo Baskerville.

Watson rolled the manuscript back up and put it in his pocket.

"Well," said Izzy. "Wasn't that, um..."

"It was bwilliant when all those funny men got killed!" enthused Leela, bouncing on her beanbag.

"Did the hound ever come back?" asked Victoria nervously.

Behind the children, Holmes opened the door and gave a thumbs-up gesture.

"Yes, it did," Watson told Victoria. "But that's a much longer story and you'll have to wait until you're older to hear it."

This didn't seem to comfort Victoria. With a cry of "I'm fwightened of the nasty hound!", she threw herself into Izzy's arms.

"You two, get out of here at once!" Izzy snapped. "I'm not having you terrify the children with your ghost stories."

Watson and Holmes politely raised their hats, and took their leave. Izzy, with Victoria still in her arms, escorted them to the door, and slammed it behind them with some force.

"A success, Holmes?" asked Watson, as they strolled down the street.

"As I suspected, the culprit was young Josephine. An elementary problem, but these petty diversions keep me out of trouble."

From behind them came the voice of an enthusiastic toddler trying to imitate the roaring of the 'hound', followed by the crash of falling furniture. The pair looked round, to see a balloon floating out of an open window. A despairing wail joined the cacophony.

"Though I think, my dear Watson," Holmes continued, "that what you've started has more than made up for it."

**Author's Note:**

> **Acknowledgements:**
> 
>   * "Doctor Who" is the property of the BBC.
>   * Sherlock Holmes was created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The text from the original novel incorporated herein is, I believe, in the public domain.
>   * Rover was created by Patrick McGoohan, and belongs to whoever owns the rights to The Prisoner these days.
>   * This Time Round was created by Tyler Dion.
>   * Look Who's Talking was the brainchild of Imran Inayat.
>   * Storytime, and the Wondrous & Adorable Nyssa's Knights-Errant Regiment, are the creation of BKWillis.
> 



End file.
